Rain. Hours of rain. This is when he shows. When the heavens grow weary, and the sky’s weap. There he will be, the Doo Diddy. If you are unlucky enough to see, as you pear out your washed window, the figure of Diddy. I do pity. You are of late. You see it is unclear as to why, why Doo Diddy does, but Doo Diddy does claim due your poo. Your poo is what Doo Ditty desires to accrue. As the water levels rise Ditty thrives off the succulent fruit of the flood grate. Unlike the poo, it is you who can no longer escape. For when he sees you Diddys stew holds not only Doo, B U T Y O U.